


Moonchild

by Razega



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ancient magic, Angst, Beauty&theBeast-ish!AU, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Lonely Namjoon, Magic, Magic!AU, Magical Boys, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Supernatural Elements, Warlock Jung Hoseok, Warlock Kim Namjoon | RM, Warlock!AU, Warlocks, ancient magic bts, i can't tag anything else rn without giving stuff away, i love namjoon a whole lot and he inspired this, warlock Kim Taehyung, warlock!namjoon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-10-09 17:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17411408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Razega/pseuds/Razega
Summary: According to the old stories, the Moonchild’s Mother had conceived with a Moon deity. When she gave birth, she hid the child, afraid that the deity would steal him away. Heartbroken that she loved the child more and angry with her for keeping it away, the deity cursed the baby so that everything he touched would die. As the child grew, so too did his ruining power. By the time he was a young boy, without a figure to guide his magic, his Mother began to fear him as well. She feared him so much that she attempted to take his life, only for it to end in tragedy. The Moonchild had tried to stop her, grabbing her wrists. In the throes of turmoil, his power unchecked, she slowly turned to ash.





	1. Prologue

“There is magic in everything.” You had whispered to yourself, index finger gingerly running across the words on the page. With your bottom lip between your teeth, as it always is when you’re focused, you mull over the words staring back at you from the yellowed, faded pages of the book.

Suddenly, you stand and close it with a dull and dusty snap, waving your free hand around your face while you try to cough as quiet as you can. The old librarian peeks at you over the rim of her even older glasses from across the room, expressionless as ever.

The resident feline of the tiny library, a lithe grey striped bob-tailed sweetheart, has woken from his nap basking in the windowsill beside the chair you rose from. He stretches his back and looks up at you through tired golden eyes. You’ve always enjoyed the cat’s company when you come to return old and borrow new scrolls or books.

After you’ve corralled the heavy books into your bag, you huff, giving the cat a swift scratch behind his ears. It’s always hard leaving this place, loitering around the room before you have to rip yourself from your favorite getaway. You glance back at the massive shelves of literature and can’t help but admire the way the particles in the air catch the glowing dusk sunlight.

Tucking a misplaced strand of hair behind your ear, you adjust your pack and head for the door, boots muffled against the wood floor. You steel yourself just in time to open the heavy barrier, where you’re immediately met with the sounds of the busy road just two feet away.

Lofty, brisk autumn air feels wonderful as it soothes across your face, mussing the strands of hair you just fixed. Walking back to your lonely corner of the world is the same as always, and yet you can’t help but notice the details everyone around you so blatantly seems to ignore.

How the last fragments of the sun’s glare are warm and welcoming, or how the cadence of the town’s activity creates a steady rhythm so comforting that it washes away any worries because you’re alive and well. The smell of rich earth freshly overturned in the fields just behind the general store. The magic of life, right before your eyes.

There’s a gentle, but sad smile on your face as you turn your back on the world outside, closing the door with a quiet thud. Before you get started, you reach for a sprig of sage, still hanging from the twine in front of the window facing the sun. You’re not sure why, but you’re more than nervous as you light a few candles to illuminate your work station. A curse passes your lips as you heave open the heavy leather scripture on the book stand shoved in the corner beside the work station. Several rare ingredients are scattered in bottles and strung along the wall from twine.

There’s a crystal with six smooth sides and tapered points on either end resting in the fold between two pages of your ancient copy of _The Language of Flowers_. You can’t help the fond smile that graces your lips as your eyes land on it. Anyone else might assume that it were just a beautiful paperweight, valiantly guarding your place between the spine of the book. You get lost in the memories of the crystal as it catches the soft glow of candle light, nearly swirling the color into brilliant, flickering shades of color that are always reminiscent of the sky at sunrise.

Your Mother gave you that crystal as a child when you were just beginning to hear her tales of wonderment and magic from the old stories she would read to you. Your favorite had always been about the Moonchild, a human warlock who ruined everything he touched. His story always fascinated you, even though it was littered with tragedy and sadness and pain. It wasn’t the warlocks fault that everything he touched began to wither, wilt and die.

According to the old stories, the Moonchild’s Mother had conceived with a Moon deity. When she gave birth, she hid the child, afraid that the deity would steal him away. Heartbroken that she loved the child more and angry with her for keeping it away, the deity cursed the baby so that everything he touched would die. As the child grew, so too did his ruining power. By the time he was a young boy, without a figure to guide his magic, his Mother began to fear him as well. She feared him so much that she attempted to take his life, only for it to end in tragedy. The Moonchild had tried to stop her, grabbing her wrists. In the throes of turmoil, his power unchecked, she slowly turned to ash.

In panic and despair he shouted, slamming his fists into the stone of their home, upturning everything within reach. The townspeople gathered at the commotion, watching in shock and horror as they saw the Moonchild turn everything he had touched into a storm of gently swirling ashes, dunes of it at his feet. Even with such a pained expression and tear-stained cheeks shining in the pure moonlight, they turned on him, a boy, howling threats of hanging or burning at the stake.

So the Moonchild fled into the forest. The townspeople were uneasy, but let him go out of fear for their own lives to turn out the same as his Mother’s. After some time with no further threat, the town settled back into ease, assuming the Moonchild had been killed by the dangers that lurked in the wild. Surely his power held no candle to the flame of a wild pack of hungry wolves they thought.

With a deep sigh and the pulling of your heartstrings, you wrench yourself out of your own head. Your arms flail around your head to clear the thoughts and pangs of sadness for the warlock’s story. “There is magic in everything.” you whisper to yourself, grabbing your stone mortar and pestle. The smooth, cold surface and heavy weight calms your nerves as you release a breathe you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

You begin to hum a melody you remember as a child, although you’ve never been able to remember where it came from. It always soothes you. Your hands run on autopilot, pouring this or that into the mortar, sprinkling something alongside it to sizzle. You add two drops of a noxious smelling substance, letting them fall into the bowl from a twig you snapped between your closed fists. More grinding. Then you crush a small bramble of dried leaves between your hands, letting the flakes float to the concoction you’re creating.

The herbs are ready. Next, as you still hum, you scoop the lavender colored liquid out on two fingers, lathering it across the only piece of your Mother you have left, an old pewter ring she always had dangling from a chain around her neck. With a gentleness you did not know you possessed, you place the ring into the small canvas bag of soil and crushed berries you’d collected earlier that morning. You add the sprig of fresh sage to finish it off.

You stop humming. The crystal sitting unassumingly between the book pages now rests in your closed palm. With one last shaky breath of released nerves, you hold the canvas bag between your palms, using your thumbs to press the crystal firmly against the contents inside.

The incantation slips from your lips easily, overflowing with feeling. Your skin prickles as you speak the ancient text from the heavy book resting on the stand. You’re sure something must happen this time with the raw power you can feel swirling around somewhere inside. Continuing, it takes all of your focus and willpower not to get discouraged or frustrated when you can still feel the fog of it not being quite right. You were sure the spell would work this time. It was the only option left from the hundreds you’d tried over the last eighteen months.

Something happens a moment later, and with great shock, you drop the crystal. Your precious magical item. Everything is mute, but there’s a distinct ringing in your ears, as if you’re slowly regaining your auditory sense after hearing a bomb go off directly beside you. Still in shock, you’re eyeing your left hand where you could have sworn something cold touched you, and you’re sweating profusely.

Brow furrowed in confusion, you huff a dramatic sigh and throw the bag from your hands to the work table. The helpless feelings of fatigue overtake you as they always do when you're trying desperately, recklessly to cast a spell and make your Mother rise from the dead. Necromancy is a dangerous game, and one you would give anything to win. Just once.

You sink to the floor, slumping over and pulling your crystal to your chest where you clutch it tightly. The tears flood you instantly and the loneliness you feel crowds in on you like a tidal wave, burying you deep beneath the weight of it where nobody can hear your screaming.

________________________________________________

A sound so shrill and loud it breaks the stone mortar on your table rips you from your fitful slumber, and then everything you’ve worked so hard for explodes. Almost in slow motion you watch as all manner of material splinters as though thousands of tiny, silent bolts of lightning are rippling them into separation. The floor beneath you begins to vibrate with unknown intensity, followed by the an audio force so deep and frightening, it knocks the very breath from your lungs.

The tiny corner of the world you’ve worked so hard to keep for yourself is no longer there, awash in the winds whipping around you in a ten foot vortex. The only thing left is you and the crystal you hold onto for dear life. You’re shell-shocked, your entire body sore from the toll attempting to spell-cast always takes and the effects of it failing yet again.

You’re sure it must mean something. Very suddenly and with perfect clarity, you see the beauty of this catastrophe. There is beauty in pain and suffering and it feels almost as though the idea of your world being completely ruined is a burden lifted from your shoulders. You’re standing among the fine rubble, smiling to yourself.

Like a punch to the gut you’re knocked from your stupor by a shout, “She’s a witch!”

Another cry from the crowd now gathering outside what was your life mimicking the same sentiments.

“Grab her!” they holler, shaking their fingers in your direction.

You watch as they come toward you slowly, claws outstretched in a wary attack. You feel lighter as you step out of their reach, watching the squat, greasy man they're attached to trip over the debris at your feet.

“Burn her at the stake!” Another woman shrieks in horror.

Those words are all it takes for you to snap back to the reality that you’re in danger if you don’t escape. You know those words.+

Without a second thought you’re running down the backside of the heap towards the fields.

It takes ten minutes and an overwhelming amount of sheer willpower to escape the townspeople hunting for you. Lucky for you it is night, and their torchlight casts dark shadows in the deep brush, making your stealthy escape possible as you pause to catch your breath against the back of a large boulder. You are certain that had it been daylight you would have passed out from running non-stop long ago.

Squeezing your eyes shut tight for a brief moment, you inhale a large gulp of oxygen before you’re off again, holding your breath and sneaking between the shadows cast against the foliage.

It is in this moment that you’re blessing your curious nature, happy that you know this forest like the back of your hand from all of your time spent mapping it and collecting your ingredients.

However, the moment of joy is fleeting when you realize that there isn’t anywhere for you to escape completely without crossing over the hulking mountains that your little town sits in the valley of. You swallow hard, chancing an anxious glance at the jagged edges of snow-capped rocks gleaming in the lavender color of the moon.

You don’t have a choice.  
You know what you have to do.  
You don’t hesitate.

Plucking a small stone from the cool soil, you kiss it for good luck before reeling back your arm and aiming for somewhere across the trees. The moment the hollow knocking sound and rusting of the stone falling through some leaves hits your ears, you’re running in the opposite direction.

Those people you used to know are left behind, searching for you from where the stone landed. There are too many emotions swirling around inside as you grapple up the side of a twelve foot cliff face and begin your adventure in unknown territory. In a twisted way, you’re worried that the townspeople won’t know how to get back into town from this deep within the forest.

Once you’re over the side of the cliff and out of view, you look up at the mountain before you. The forest that blankets it is thicker than the one you know, and it prompts an eerie feeling in your heart. It is only now, as you clench your fists that you realize you haven’t let go of your Mother’s crystal all this time. You stare at it in wonder and nearly choke on a sob before smiling at it. You take three breaths to calm your nerves, swallowing down the bundle of emotions churning your gut, and begin the ascent.

________________________________________________

It takes three days of horrible, awful luck before anything happens. You are not sure where you're even wandering to, but you know you need to either find a place to lay low in the mountains for a few weeks, or just keep moving before someone finds you.

You’ve lost weight, you can tell, as the clothes on your frame are already beginning to feel a bit too loose. You can’t even imagine the state your hair must be in. The only bit of luck you’ve had was finding a whole turtle shell lying in the brush. It needed cleaning, but you were still able to use it to catch rainwater for drinking during the storm the night before.

A deep growl sounds from your stomach, reminding you of the strange feeling that something wasn’t quite right. You hadn’t seen or heard a single animal in at least a full day. Not even birds. Oddly, the brush was still crushed in certain areas, and some wild raspberries had been freshly plucked from a bush you’d also collected your meager breakfast from.

You were fairly certain you’d also seen some wild animal tracks in the mud this morning. One set from a deer and another from a fox.

Continuing on for some time, you hum your familiar, soothing melody to yourself to ignore the persistent growling of your gut as you walk. The sunlight is dampening in favor of the moonlight the longer you travel. You close your eyes briefly and tilt your chin to the sky, basking in the last flecks of daytime.

Without warning, you’re suddenly overcome with a great wave of nausea. Your eyes nearly snap out of the sockets as your entire body wretches forward to expel the bile from your stomach. It leaves you reeling and you’re very much hyper aware that you can feel a strong force thrumming in your veins.

And you’re not alone.

There’s a series of voices speaking in various tones. Some sound shocked, while others sound mildly irritated and one or two even sound giddy. You think they’re talking about you, but you can’t be sure as a hazy fog overcomes your brain and makes you swim. You smile, feeling warm and loose, like you're drunk.

You collapse into the dirt with a dull thud and some crunching leaves. As your consciousness slips from you, all you can see is a large black wolf walking towards you cautiously. It’s eyes are the same iridescent color as the moon.


	2. Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find yourself in the presence of a clumsy but charming man and his friends.

You feel light, as if you’re floating and there’s nothing at all wrong in the world. There’s a warm softness soothing your body, and you realize that your stomach doesn’t feel empty anymore. Your throat isn’t parched, and you somehow can’t bring yourself to even begin to harbor the worries you’d been holding on to for who knows how long. You’re at peace.

There’s something firm and warm curled against your back, and as you open your eyes, you’re met with a wet nose. Two pairs of eyes stare down the length of it, and you feel a sense of calm while you take in the hues of amber and green in their brown depths. When you smile and scoot away, breaking contact, your expression falls immediately and it feels as though you were doused with a bucket of water.

Whirling on your weary legs, it is clear that the... deer in the bed you just rose from had you under some sort of calm spell. It stares back at you and you’re vaguely aware that it looks like it might be smiling warmly at you.

A sound of metal banging outside shocks you into breaking eye contact with the strange creature, although your eyes gaze at it when it rises from the bed and walks toward the door. It gives you a moment to take it all in, waiting by the heavy wood of the door.

The room you’re in is large. The ceiling is a mix of stone and... perhaps tree. Old, ancient tree that rounds down the sides and creates three of the rounded walls. More stone fills the gaps where the wood does not. The floor is divided like marble, much like the walls. Wooden beneath your feet, but one step to the right and it’s smooth stone. Where it dips toward the door, it becomes packed earth.

It is someone’s home, that’s for certain. From the drop into what you’re assuming is the kitchen, a large hearth in the center of the front wall sits unlit, although you can faintly smell freshly snuffed out ashes. There’s a large table beside the hearth with several stools shoved against the wall beside it. Many scrolls and papers are scattered across it’s dark surface.

The bed beside you is large and more inviting than it should be with it’s plush looking pillows and blankets, all in various shades of rich earth tones. Briefly, you resist the urge to crawl right back into it. A darker line cuts between the wood of the wall beside the bed, and it takes a moment before you realize it’s an oddly shaped door, made to fit perfectly with the wall.

Twisting shelves of varying depths have been made from the wood curling up the side of the house. Some have clean, stacked dishes, but most of them are filled with books, and a strange, Leopard spotted cat sits on the highest shelf, watching you with a lazy yet intuitive expression. Otherwise, it doesn’t move.

There are clothes draped across the back of a large, comfortable looking chair, framed by a basket full of more clothes and a small table on either side. A pair of glasses sits folded on top of a book on the table.

The heavy wooden door the deer stands before has a small window, and you notice that there are more panes of glass tucked between some of the other places where stone and tree do not meet in various colors. It paints a very pretty, glittering image as the sun dances brightly outside.

Inside your head, you’re actually a little cautious of why you’re not more guarded. Why do you feel so right?

The deer kicks at the door impatiently, waiting for you to join it. Your curiosity is the winning party, and you take it in stride. You descend the two stairs to the side of the room to follow it. Gently, you touch at it’s back, giving a little pet before pushing the door open.

You can’t be sure you didn’t hear a small grunt of joy as it forces it’s head against your palm before it moves so your hand is now splayed on it’s back as you both walk forward.

The glare of the sunlight through the canopy of trees is brilliant. Your guide stops after a few feet, staring ahead at something. Your eyes follow the direction until you’re met with a man standing very still and watching you in return. He looks young, perhaps your own age. Upon his approach you realize how tall he is, and how the sun catches in the golden hue of his tanned skin.

You wait just a moment to take him in. He’s wearing what you would say is a normal Autumn weather set of clothes. A t-shirt and jacket, the sleeves of which are rolled up slightly as he worked on his task. His trousers tucked into his boots which are barely laced up properly.

The only thing you find a little strange is his hands. They’re encased in dark colored wrappings that extend half way up his forearms. You think it would be rude to ask about them.

The animal at your side removes itself, and you’re left with this stranger. He speaks to you, cautiously and in a language you do not know.

You tilt your head to the side as you apologize, “I’m sorry, I can’t understand you.” You feel sheepish, realizing he probably can’t understand you either.

“Ah, no, I apologize, miss.”, he says slowly. There’s a brief pause as he meets your eyes before he begins again, raising his hand to rub at his neck and looking away.

“I wasn’t sure which language to use first. You’re the first person in human form I’ve spoken to in years and since you just so happened to walk into my home as if there wasn’t a very powerful illusion spell to keep people out and-“

“Excuse me?” you cut him off, your lower jaw suddenly lax.

He stops his rambling, “What?”

“Did you just say there was an... illusion spell?” You tuck away the other question about you being the only person in human form he's spoken to in years.

He stares at you incredulously, “Yes?”

You blanche at him, completely confused by his words and expression, “I... I’m sorry, what?”

He covers his smile when he chuckles, averting his eyes again, “Why is that so strange? You cast a spell, too. To counter it. Otherwise you’d have walked right past and never known we were here. Magic or not.”

You blink rapidly a few times, sucking in a sharp breath. You try to speak, bringing your hand up to emphasize your phrasing, but nothing comes out.

For the moment, you accept that you're having a conversation about _real_ magic. Trying again, your fingers pinch together as your force out a thought, “I can’t cast anything. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

His brow knits together in confusion, “You _did_ , though.”

Before you can further argue, his expression hardens and he speaks again. Only this time, there’s a chilling difference in his tone.

“Now I must ask you, who are you and what are you doing in this place? What are you after?”

The chill that seizes your spine makes you wince. His eyes are a deep brown, nearly black with the cold hardness behind them.

Your body screams alert and your blood runs cold and you try not to let the fear waiver your voice as you reply, “I’m nobody. I’m not after anything and I just happened to wander into your camp on accident.”

A sound similar to a warning growl rips from his throat, “Liar.”

He steps closer, looming over you in a very threatening manner. You gaze up at him and in your close proximity, you can feel a thrumming in your veins. A pull. A lock of his silvery fringe hangs in his eyes, and when you peer into them you feel it again.

Those eyes are staring right back into yours when you breathe, “Honest.”

Something akin to guilt flashes across his face at your sincerity before the expression hardens again and he whirls back, stepping away with a frustrated grumble.

“Then how did this happen?” his voice drips with authority as he gestures, dark clothed hands sweeping all around. He quirks one eyebrow, waiting. Oddly, it makes him appear more charming.

“I don’t know how _any_ of this happened.” You say, voice cracking half way through the last word. The implication of your words is heavy, but he doesn’t know what you’ve been through so it’s lost on him.

“I- ” you swallow thickly, crouching down. You bring your head between your knees and hug them, wishing to just have some answers.

The sound of crunching boots comes closer until you hear them stop directly in front of you. In the quiet you realize you can feel things pull every time he is near enough.

He clears his throat, crouching in front of you. The scent of him is hard to describe, but you think you like it.

“Hey.” he whispers.

Wearily, you look up at him. His expression is still a little guarded, but it is far kinder than it was seconds ago.

“Who are you?” you ask.

You watch on, clearly reading the emotions that pass his face. He curls his lips inward, mouth stretched in a taut line as he regards you with narrowed eyes. As if he’s trying to read you and weigh how to answer that question.

Finally, with a sigh, “I’m Namjoon.”

He smiles a little when you do, raising his brow to prompt you, “And you are?”

You startle, “Oh, sorry. I’m ________.”

“Okay.” he says, standing and extending his hand out to you for only a second before he retracts it and looks at it with a horrified, disgusted face.

“Come on, let’s get you something to eat and talk.” he says instead, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and kicking some leaves around with his boot.

As if on queue at the word ‘ _eat_ ’, your stomach growls terribly loud.

A big smile spreads on his face when you look at him in horror. You notice the charming dimples of his cheeks, and maybe you feel that pulling again.

He leads you to a makeshift cooking station where there’s a silver pot of something delicious boiling so hot it’s about to go over the side.

Namjoon rushes to remove it from the fire without much thought, touching the metal handle.The wrappings don’t protect him from the scorch. He calls out, then hisses a curse briefly, hand jumping back from the pot as he sticks his wrapped finger against his lips.

There is a thick, rough leather glove sitting on a small table beside you. Handing it to him, you try to hide your amusement when he mumbles a thank you around his finger, eyes flicking to yours before his brows draw together in concentration.

“Go sit over there, please.” he asks quietly, pointing to a hammock tied between two low hanging branches.

As you approach, you realize the branches are all attached to the same absolutely giant tree that makes up sixty percent of the house you emerged from. The trunk has to to be twenty feet wide as it stretches up and to the right. The house is tucked into the right side of it, and you can see grass from where the tree splits into giant branches overhead as if there’s a hill to climb up on the other side of it.

You’re broken from your small observational reprieve when Namjoon stalks toward you with a small smile and a soup mug of stew in his hand. He doesn't pass it to you directly. Instead, he places it on the ground at your feet, where you pick it up.

“Thank you.” you return the smile.

He pulls up a smaller stool made of wood and stretched canvas, lacing his fingers in front of him as his elbows rest on his knees.

“So,” he begins. “I might have read into it, but when you said you didn’t know how any of this happened, it seemed like you meant a whole lot more than just breaking down my spell and wandering into my home.”

You blow on the spoonful of stew as you inch it closer to your mouth, nodding once the spoon exits your lips.

“Tell me.” he says warmly. You’re not sure how a command like that can sound so gentle, but you’re compelled to tell him regardless. You feel like you need to get it off of your chest, and since it involves magic, which he apparently thinks is normal to possess, he is your best bet at finding some answers to your story.

You suppose he needs a few small details to understand why you did what you did that catapulted you into this insane situation.

A deep breath, “Well. For starters, my Mother died about two years ago. She was... magnificent.”

His expression is unreadable when you tell him, and you assume he is focused intently.

“She was my world. She believed that there was magic in everything and always told me fantastic stories laced with it.” you trail off, eyes downcast.

“I grew up believing and seeing the magic in every single part of our world, but could never wield it. I wanted to so very badly, could feel that I needed to possess it.” you said.

Namjoon’s expression softens a little as he watches you.

A brief pause for more stew before you continue, “So when I was maybe six or so, one night after telling me stories of Warlocks and Witches and magic, she gave me th-” you dig into your pocket, realizing it’s weightless.

Panic crosses your face, “Where’s my crystal?” you ask.

The man in front of you furrows his brow in confusion. Then, realization.

“Ah.” is all he gives you before whistling delicately. Then he says something in a language you can’t even begin to guess.

From the other side of the house comes that same Siberian Roe Deer. The sun shines a little brighter against his back as he approaches with your crystal in his mouth.

When he reaches you, he drops it directly into Namjoon’s large, waiting palm. You stare at them both. If you were not mistaken, you would believe they were both staring at you with amused faces.

“Thank you, Hoseok.” Namjoon says softly, running his fingers over the back of the deer’s neck.

“Hoseok?” you ask. You’re a little on edge when the deer’s head snaps in your direction, waiting intently.

Namjoon chuckles at you, handing the crystal to you and watching you curiously as you instinctively hoard it to your chest.

You put the soup down, “Why do I feel like he can understand everything I say?”

“Because he can.” comes Namjoon’s simple reply.

Your mouth is agape, “You can?” you ask the deer pointedly.

He nods with his whole neck, bucking his front legs up and down a bit in an excited reply.

“What.” is all you can manage.

Namjoon sighs, his hand hovering over Hoseok’s neck as he makes himself more comfortable by lying down against his legs. Once settled, the gentle scratching continues.

“Well, your Mother wasn’t wrong. There is magic in everything, to put it simply. Now tell me what else happened?” he says, attention back on you.

The soup is back in your grasp as you go on, “First, thank you for returning this.” you say as you tuck the crystal into your pocket. It’s weight is comforting.

“Anyway, when I was a kid, after she gave me this, something happened. I don’t know if it was just my imagination, but it felt like what I assumed was magic.”

“When I touched it for the first time, a surge of something in me snapped and I ended up sick on the floor, and then, at the hospital for three days. When I got better and asked where my crystal was, my Mother swore in horror that I’d never see it again since it made me so sick.”

“She thought I was crazy that I wanted it back. I remember crying for a long time and telling her that whatever happened was magic.” You laugh lightly at the memory, setting your now empty soup mug on the ground.

“A year later, I found it tucked away in her room in a bag shoved into a hidden, hollow book I picked up accidentally instead of one with a similar spine from her shelf. For whatever reason, when I touched it this time, the surge of energy was still there, but I guess by anticipating it, I didn’t get sick.”

Namjoon’s hum of understand is his reply, urging you to continue.

“It’s been frustrating though.” You say, tilting your head to the side, “I can still feel whatever power is there and I’ve read dozens of books and scrolls on magic and I still can’t make anything happen. I’ve tried every suggested method.”

“Why do you feel like you need to make something happen?” he asks curiously.

You stare at him, “I feel like I am meant to. I feel this,” you clutch at the center of your chest, gently patting yourself there with your palm, “This pull. Every time. And, now, here in this place, I can feel it too. I felt it horribly when I first accidentally stumbled into your home.”

“So that’s why you got so sick when you first broke my illusion.” he muses, nodding to himself.

“I didn’t do it. My crystal must have.” you correct.

The look on Namjoon’s face says otherwise, but he doesn’t argue.

“Anyway. So, I suppose, without anything left to lose, I tried desperately for months, specifically reading books on Necromancy, to bring my Mother back.”

The ease and nonchalance with which you said it concerns Namjoon, although he says nothing.

“I know, not the right thing to do. I was desperate. I tried somewhere around 300 times over the last year and a half. Every time, I’d get horribly sick immediately after. Nothing ever happened other than that though. The energy I would feel was different, yet similar each time, too.”

He nods when you look over to him, prompting you further.

“After awhile, I got used to it enough that I didn’t hurl after, but I would still get very tired. I’m certain I passed out once or twice, too. But this time was different.” you whisper.

When your eyes flick to Namjoon, both he and Hoseok are focused on you, waiting.

“This time, when I last did it a few days ago, I fell asleep. When I woke up, my entire house shattered into splintering debris with a sound so loud I thought I went deaf. Something powerful happened. Nothing was left except for this crystal.”

Namjoon’s eyes are watching you with a piercing gaze.

“Of course, my entire town came rushing. Seeing me standing there, oh _god_...” you muse, hanging your head in your palms, “They called me a witch. And the-” your throat catches.

“And the hardest, most fucked up part, is I _wish_ I was.” you say through clenched teeth.

Both of them are silent as they watch your face roll with a tide of emotions.

“They threatened to burn me at the stake. So, I ran. Wandered for a few days and here I am.” you say, rubbing your hands over your thighs with a deep sigh.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, leaning back and letting his head roll from side to side, “Good thing you are a witch, then.”

He said it like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like there was no chance in it being untrue. The way you gawk at him makes him laugh fully, and you're sure you feel that pulling in your chest this time.

“I am not. This crystal is a magic item. I just use it.” you say in a somber tone. You stretch high, your full stomach a pleasant weight in your center.

“I promise you, as someone who has known magic for longer than you've been alive, it’s not the crystal.” Namjoon says from his seat.

“What are you saying? Are you some kind of ancient Warlock? Going to tell me you’re a hundred years old and that you live up here all alone like a hermit?” You laugh, rolling your eyes.

Namjoon’s mock offense at your joke makes you laugh out loud.

“Actually, it’s two hundred years, thank you very much.” He says with an dimpled, shit-eating grin.

You splutter, unable to expel the saliva you had swallowed down the wrong pipe at his statement.

“The rest is pretty accurate, wouldn’t you agree, Hobi?” he asks the deer at his side.

“You’re definitely joking, right?” You look at him disbelieving.

The crinkles of his eyes as he smiles big and wide tell you he is, in fact, not joking. He seems giddy that you know.

You have to sit down again to process this new information. Namjoon fidgets with his lips, thinking while you are processing.

“Uh,” he clears his throat, “You can, um... stay here if you like? If you don’t have anywhere else to go.” he says in a smaller voice, clearly insecure about asking someone he just met to live with him.

“We can make you your own area and I can maybe teach you some stuff, or...” he trails off, head down but eyes looking at you through his fringe.

You feel like you’re getting whiplash with the emotions he’s given you in such a short time. You’ve only just met hours ago.

Twisting your hands, you’re also unsure about this. However, “I don’t really have any other options, Namjoon. If that is alright, I suppose we could try it.”

When you realize you made it sound like a last resort, you add, “And I’d very much like to learn what you want to teach me.”

He smiles a bit at that. You've already noticed when it's more genuine, it reaches his eyes.

“Forgive me if this has been strange. I just... it’s been a long time since I talked to anyone that wasn’t trapped in an animal’s body.” he says before freezing, realizing the information he passed to you.

Your eyes go wide, then down to Hoseok. You rush to stand, and so does Namjoon, now in a slight panic at your outburst.

“He’s a human?! Trapped in that body? How? Why?” It makes a little bit more sense as you recall the question you tucked away earlier.

Hoseok’s eyes are glued to you both, watching in what you assume is pure glee at the uncomfortable situation Namjoon put himself in.

“Uh... long sto-” he is interrupted by a loud crack behind you as you stand there looking like you’re about to argue.

You can’t see what it is, but the surprise on Namjoon’s face makes you take some hesitant steps toward him, subconsciously sneaking your hand down to grip your crystal in your pocket. Hoseok remains still, only his eyes glancing to you when you peek at him as you stop not three feet from Namjoon.

Another loud snarl. “Is it the wolf?” you ask in a whisper as you turn. You miss the flicker of amusement that crosses over the man's features as you turn fully.

You’re met with a large, terrifying tiger, crouched low and teeth barred. None of you move.

It stalks forward a few paces. You bring your fist up to your chest, clutching your crystal. Apparently, you moved too quickly.

It sets off the tiger, lunging at you with a growl. Before you know what you’re doing, your hand comes up in front of your face.

“Please don’t!” you scream.

The tiger crashes unceremoniously against something solid and invisible. You’re surprised, Namjoon is surprised, and most of all, the tiger is surprised.

As it sits up, it huffs and looks up at you both with wide eyes, then raises a massive paw and gestures to you while looking directly at Namjoon behind you. It makes some strange deep noises from the back of it’s throat that sound an awful lot like complaining.

Namjoon barks a loud laugh, bending over with his eyes squeezed shut. The tiger doesn’t look amused. Hoseok is making a strange, high-pitched grunting sound that you chalk up to being as close as he can get to outright laughing.

You’re still breathing hard, not sure what just transpired.

“Uh.” you start, swallowing the slight nausea thickly. “Okay, yeah, let me get this straight.”

Namjoon is still cackling as he brushes past you to clap the tiger on the shoulder, scratching his fingers through the fur between it’s ears.

You cross your arms, crystal still snugly curled in one fist, “Is this one of your friends also trapped in an animals body?”

Namjoon’s dimpled smile says it all as he sighs happily, wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye.

“Mmhm. This is Taehyung. As you can see, he likes to joke around.” The tiger is beaming you a bright, boxy smile.

“Pretending to _eat someone_ is _not_ funny!” you scowl at him.

Namjoon chuckles, “But then it got better because you totally shut him out with that barrier!” he interjects.

“Yeah, about that...” you trail off.

Hoseok stands beside you, taking a defensive position and lightly jabbing at Taehyung’s side with his antlers.

“You didn’t even know you were doing it, did you?” Namjoon asks, a little more serious.

With a shake of your head, you turn. A smaller figure is stretching it’s back just outside of the door to Namjoon’s little home. You realize it’s the Leopard Cat from earlier.

It seems to be annoyed, and if you weren’t mistaken, nearly rolls it’s eyes as it gracefully slides back inside through the open door.

Beside you, Namjoon begins speaking in a different language, even different from the one he used with Hoseok earlier.

You deadpan, “Don’t tell me you’re speaking Tiger dialect.”

Taehyung’s answering sounds tell you that is exactly what he is doing.

“Is it all the same language?” you ask, now genuinely curious.

“Not quite. Each species has it’s own. For example, Taehyung here can speak freely to Yoongi since they’re both feline, so it's the same. That’s it, though. Otherwise, I have to mediate and translate for them all, or they just speak with gestures to each other.” he explains.

You nod along even though you’re confused about several things.

First, “Is Yoongi that tiny Leopard that lives in your house?”

Namjoon clicks his tongue, “Yes.”

Second, “So, please, can you explain why your friends are all trapped in animal bodies and you’re not? What happened?”

He pauses, not sure how to answer, “It was my Father who did this to them. His Magic doesn’t affect me since it’s the same as mine.”

“What kind of Magic do you mean?” you ask quietly.

Namjoon gestures back to the little seating arrangement, plopping down with a sigh. Taehyung and Hoseok don’t follow you.

The Warlock in front of you looks tired suddenly, weary. “I’m a Warlock, yes, but since you seem to know so little about magic, let me explain.” he begins.

“Typically, each Magic user garners their power from a source. Like a deity or a temple. Something of worship. We draw our power from that. It doesn’t mean you have to go pray or be religious about it, it’s more like an affinity. You can only have one type, so you dedicate your Magic to it.”

He draws a breath, his hand outstretching to show you his flat palm. A small... _something_ happens there. Like the iridescence of a bubble’s surface, you can see translucent surfaces shifting as they catch the glinting sunlight.

“For me, my affinity is the Moon. That makes me a Moon Warlock. We each have one, and if I’m going to teach you anything magic, we’ll have to figure out what yours is, too. You have to have one already, since you're able to cast."

You can’t help the ripple of excitement that bubbles in your chest at his seriousness in teaching you.

"Still just the crystal." you remind him.

“My Father was a very powerful Moon Deity, and since our affinity is the same, it renders spells of the same type useless. So, his curse didn’t work on me this time.” he says lowly.

You don’t miss the hurt and remorse in his eyes when he says that. “What do y-”

Namjoon cuts you off deliberately, saying instead, “Anyway. So, yeah. My Warlock friends are all trapped in animal bodies.” He scratches at the back of his neck, refusing to meet your eyes.

Your heart sinks at the loneliness he must feel. “Who are all of your friends? I mean, besides these guys.” you say, gesturing out with a small smile at the pile of deer and tiger gently wrestling on the ground.

“Well, you saw Yoongi. Here are Hoseok and Taehyung. Seokjin should be around here somewhere, probably hunting.” he says, eyes scanning the edge of the clearing.

“Ah, then there’s Jimin and Jungkook. I don’t know when they’ll be back. I asked them to get some rare herbs for me and they’re the fastest. They left this morning, but they were here when you first walked through my spell.”

“What kind of Warlocks are these two?” you ask, laughing quietly as you observe them.

Namjoon sits up straighter, calling to Hoseok first in the dialect specific to him.

The deer disentangles himself from the tiger, who wiggles around on his back and swats at him playfully.

Hoseok opens his mouth, various tones of grunting directed at Namjoon.

“I was just asking him if it was alright for me to tell you. Sometimes it’s not always polite to ask other users what their type is.” he explains.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” you say, blinking sheepishly at Hoseok.

The deer raises one hoof and sets it gently on your knee.

“It’s alright. He said it was fine anyway. Hoseok is a Sun Warlock. Much the opposite of me, although we compliment each other well.”

Hoseok makes more grunting.

“Fine fine, yes. He wants you to know it was him that healed you. That’s what he does.” Namjoon says.

You nod, “Thank you, Hobi.” You reach out to scratch him. He steps beside you, laying his neck across your lap, inviting you to pet. Your arms instinctively wrap over his head, using both of your hands to absentmindedly scratch at both sides of his face and head.

Namjoon watches fondly, “With each sign comes spell-types that are our Major and Minor spell-casting types. For Hobi, Healing is his Major, and Harvest is his Minor.”

“Would Taehyung mind if I asked his, too?” you peer at the tiger chasing his own tail in the dirt. At the sound of his name, he perks up.

Namjoon speaks to him in tiger dialect, asking the same thing he did to Hoseok you assume.

Without a moment of hesitation the tiger is bounding to you, stopping short to sit directly in front of you. Even sitting in a hammock with him sitting down in front of you, the tiger’s eyes are level with your own.

He makes some grumbling noises and Namjoon translates, “He wants you to guess.”

You scoff, watching Taehyung puff out his chest and flash you a fierce yet smug expression, “Uh, I don’t know. He seems to think he’s very important.” He looks very regal with the setting sun and the glowing fire at his back.

Namjoon laughs, “Well, he is pretty important. What do you know about tigers?” he prompts.

“They’re protectors.” It clicks without any other clues.

The Moon Warlock clarifies, “Yes, they are. Taehyung specifically is a War Warlock. War Warlocks have high offensive” Taehyung animatedly mimics a vicious attack.

“And defensive” The tiger now puffs his chest and puts one huge paw over it, “Abilities, but they only have one spell-type and that’s Alteration. To cast on themselves to increase their physical abilities. Essentially, he is the pinnacle of physical harmony. An elite fighter and swordsman.”

You pout you bottom lip and raise your eyebrows in an impressed look, “Very impressive.”

There’s a thick atmosphere suddenly as you and Namjoon both seem to realize where that leads you.

“So... now that I know you’re a Moon Warlock, would it still be considered rude to ask what your Major and Minor are? Can I assume one of them is Illusions?” you peek at him quietly.

With the sun now set, it would be hard to see his face much, and Namjoon is willfully staring a hole in the ground, refusing to meet your eyes, “Illusion Magic is my Minor.”

He huffs quickly, resolutely bringing his eyes to stare directly at your face, “If Hoseok is a Sun Warlock and their Major is Healing and I’m the literal opposite of him...”

The way he says the last words are bitter and hateful and about himself. You notice the pain and shame on his face as he squeezes his eyes shut for a second. When he opens them, it's like everything slows down and the moon brightens drastically in the canopy overhead, catching his irises and making them glow.

“You’re beautiful.” you whisper, too late in clamping a hand over your mouth as you realize you said the words aloud.

Namjoon’s gaze is startled as he stares back at you with an unreadable expression, perhaps hopeful?

“Uh,” you scramble for an excuse, “I mean, your eyes. They’re practically glowing.”

Hurt flashes across his face so quickly you’re not sure you didn’t imagine it, and then he stands. There’s something in his expression as he looks at the Moon that makes you reach out in what you hope he will think is comforting.

When your fingers brush against his wrapped hand, he jerks it away from you, making you gasp. “Don’t.” he says simple in a low tone. The authority in his voice is absolute, eyes piercing. You know those eyes.

You tilt your head, “You’re the wolf, aren’t you?”

Taehyung averts his big, round eyes, deciding now is a good time to leave. He grumbles at Hoseok, now asleep with his head in your lap. The two saunter off into the darkness.

The lack of response and the other’s reaction is all the confirmation you need that Namjoon is indeed the wolf, and the Alpha.

Namjoon doesn’t answer you, and for some reason, his choice to ignore your comforts rubs you the wrong way.

“I was just trying to comfort you.” You stand to say, rounding to stand in front of him. If you're going to figure out how to live together, he can't just cut you off or get angry with you every time you do something that makes him uncomfortable. You realize you need to tell him so, since apparently it has been so long without humans around.

He growls, “I don’t need or want your pity.” His eyes are still glued to the moon. With his throat stretched up, his Adam’s apple bobs with the words.

“Namjoon.” you say.

“Go inside and go to bed.” he snarls with an air of finality.

You blink up at him, unmoving as you challenge him. When he realizes you haven't obeyed him, his eyes bore into your own.

"You can't just keep cutting me off every time something makes you uncomfortable." you say matter-of-fact, crossing your arms and taking a step closer.

A growl slides up his throat like a warning as his sharp gaze doesn't waver from your face.

You uncross your arms, reaching for him again, "I just want to help." you whisper.

He doesn't say anything at first. Just takes a step back, pinching his eyes shut. You can clearly see his throat bob as he swallows thickly.

"Please," he begs, voice barely a whisper. "Just don't. Not right now."

And although you've only known him for one day, the way he says is breaks your heart all at once. You feel that pulling ache from the now empty space where it was.

You don't know what else to say, or why you feel hurt the way you do, but you turn and stalk back into the house.

When you shut the door with a quiet thud, you fling yourself back into the bed and pull the covers over your head, determined to sleep off this lump in your throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I hope things didn't get too crazy for you.  
> If anyone is interested in hearing about my choices for magic/signs/spell-types for any of the boys, feel free to ask! They're all inspired by Korean Mythology.


	3. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You discover new things about Namjoon and the world he lives in before finally meeting all of his friends.

_The sound of a wolf howling makes your eyes snap open. Somehow, the sound is familiar to screaming and it leaves you with chills._

__

__

_You’re in a forest full of towering trees and a canopy so thick you can barely see the moonlight filtering through. The wolf howls again. The feet beneath you are acting on their own and suddenly you’re running desperately towards the sound. As you draw closer, a smell not unlike smoke reaches your nose. It fills your lungs thicker with every heaving inhale._

_The ground quakes gently with the following cry of pain from the wolf. You’re close, and when you see the bright light of the moon ahead in the trees you know that’s where it is. You stop a few feet short of the treeline, still comfortable in the shrouded darkness._

_There’s a small clearing, perfectly circular. Standing in the dead center is the very same wolf you’ve been seeing. Even with its head hung low, its hackles raised in pain, it has a large body and an even larger presence. It is commanding and strong._

_Beneath its paws is a black haze, akin to thick smoke. The tendrils of it unfurl and roll back in slow, lazy patters and you can feel a thrumming from it like a beating heart. The wolf flinches and shakes its head, eyes scrunching closed._

_The tempo of the blackness increases to a restless gallop and the wolf shifts from paw to paw as if the very earth scorches where it stands on the crusted dirt. It whimpers as the tendrils flow with unchecked power, raw and hungry. Suddenly, the ground shakes and it cries out in a sharp howl and the haze beneath him grows so rapidly that you step back a few paces subconsciously._

_The stench of smoke drowns your olfactory senses once more and it hurts to breath in. The blackness stretches out in a perfect circle until everything up to the edges of the clearing are engulfed in it. The wolf remains unharmed at its center._

_Once the haze recedes you realize that this clearing was made by the wolf and the power of pure destruction it wields. The wolf remains untouched by death. You finally notice the lack of grass where the clearing is and the cracked earth that looks bone dry. There is a glittering of ash in the air and on the wolf’s back as it catches the moonlight and you can’t help but consider that it is beautiful._

_Whimpering draws your attention back to it where it stands. The wolf is panting heavily with exertion, weak as it wobbles from side to side. The black haze is back to a calm, weaker, beat, small tendrils seeping slowly out from beneath massive black paws. A strong growl tears from its throat. You raise your eyes to meet its gaze, expecting to see a threat there. Instead, you choke on your own surprise at the unabashed torment radiating from behind those eyes._

The intense pain you feel from it shakes you to the core. You wake with a jolt, a sob wrecking its way up your dry throat as you feel the tears rolling down your flushed cheeks.

You rise, too wound up to continue your fitful night’s sleep. Looking around you notice a piece of paper is stuck to the door with a small skinning knife. Taehyung is sprawled on his back in front of the hearth, his whiskers, tail and an occasional paw twitching as he dreams. The lazy flames look warm and inviting after the cold, dark nightmare, and you wish you were still tired enough to cuddle up with the tiger on the floor and go back to sleep.

You know you need to bathe. You can feel the grime and build up from not having a proper bath as it sits on your skin and in your hair. You know someone wiped you down with a clean cloth and water during your time of bed rest. You realize it was more practical that Namjoon was the one who cared for you during all of it, and the thought of the attractive man doing something like that leaves your skin with a warm, gentle flush momentarily before your nightmare’s affects continue to make you shiver.

Shaking your head, you leave the warm bed, curiosity of the notes contents leading you to it.

_‘I’ll be back by mid morning. Hoseok has taken it upon himself to care for you in my absence if you need anything.  
-Namjoon’_

As nice as the note sounds, you believe only Taehyung is here right now. Your eyes automatically flick to the shelves in search of the observant Leopard cat, only to find them all empty. You decide to go outside for some fresh air and perhaps you’ll find the deer.

Stepping through the doorway, the crisp night air soothes your lungs as you breathe deeply. Even though it was only a dream, you feel as though clearing the smoke you inhaled does wonders for you. When you’re finished with your breathing exercises, you notice Yoongi.

The small cat is sitting just outside the door on a stump, paw raised and curled over his ear, tiny pink tongue sticking out as he froze. It appears you were not the only one with a bath on your mind.

“Good morning.” you greet.

The cat eyes you wearily but bows his head and returns the greeting in a small chittering before Hoseok is suddenly there, rounding the side of the house and blinking at you blearily.

“Good morning.” you say to him, hand automatically reaching out to rub his head. He strides closer to welcome the contact and watches your face with a patient expression. Yoongi jumps onto his back and brushes himself against the deer’s neck, leaning heavily on him. You can’t help but think of it as an act of jealousy for attention from the deer.

“Oh. Hobi, where can I go to bathe and wash my clothes?” you ask.

He walks forward, nudging his way past the door and into the house. You follow close behind, watching amused as Yoongi leaps off his back and onto the floor before sauntering to the empty bed and making himself at home within the mess of blankets.

The deer pulls a large towel off the arm of the chair and throws it over his own back. You watch as he gently nudges a pile of neatly folded cloths and plucks one from the middle, slinging it to join the larger one draped across himself.

He crosses the room to a small set of drawers near the bed and opens the top drawer with his teeth before turning to you and waiting. When you peer inside, there are small pucks that look like water stones, all smooth edges of varying oval shapes and different colors. A mixture of both floral scents and heavy wood scents wafts up to you and you realize that they’re soaps.

You can’t help the smile gracing your lips and the light flutter of warmth in your gut as you pluck one and inhale the light floral fragrance. There are flecks of what appears to be jasmine petals stuck inside. It calms your anxiety, a little less jumpy from the nightmare.

Hoseok uses his nose to shut the drawer and you two leave the house. A small pang of guilt pulls at you knowing how sleepy the typically energized deer seems to be.

You’ve been walking for quite a few minutes through thick canopy before you come to a body of water. It actually glows a deep blue as the bright light of the night sky reflects on its surface. A twisted Oak tree sits just on the edge of the bank with low branches that curl naturally over the top of the water.

Hoseok takes the smaller cloth from his back and pushes it into your hand, followed by the larger towel which he flings over a low branch with practices ease.

You watch him for a moment before your cheeks turn pink, realizing he is waiting for you to strip.

“You might be a deer right now but you’re still a man. Stop staring and turn around.” you say, flushing deeper scarlet.

A noise escapes him. One you’ve come to know as his laugh as he turns his back to you and stomps halfheartedly into the packed dirt.

Your eyes watch him for a moment longer. Glancing around the edges of the water, you make sure nobody is watching you before you pull your clothes off. 

Hoseok’s ears jerk and move as he listens to you wading into the water. Only when you call for him does he turn around.

Immediately you take advantage of the low branch of tree that dips close to the water. You scrub the soap at your clothes and push them to hang over the branch in the water. There’s a faint current and you hum in satisfaction at the feel of your skin getting the love it needs while you scrub yourself with the soap with your slowly disappearing soap.

Hoseok still appears to be half asleep, and you watch him fondly as he curls up against the trunk of the tree and closes his eyes.

Time rolls by slowly as you relish the joy of a good bath and let the water pull away the anxiety and plagued thoughts with its gentle current. It feels incredible and before long you feel light as a feather, happily relaxed into a subspace that feels almost like you’re a little tiny bit tipsy. You don’t notice that the waters color glows a faint peach where it touches you and the color bleeds with the current, fading back to a natural blue.

You hear something, head whipping you back to Hoseok who is still unmoving as he naps beneath the tree. There is the sound of water being broken on the other side of the large Oak, and whatever it may be is obstructed from view.

Defensively, you crouch down into the water, only your head visible from the nose up. You don’t dare move as the sound continues and from the other side of the tree you see Namjoon wading slowly through the water.

His arms are extended at his sides, fingers splayed out as the pads of them softly disturb the surface where he drags them. You still have enough focus to notice the discoloration of his hands and forearms. The deepest black color at his fingertips and it lightens in shade as it works up to his elbows. It’s hard to see clearly, but you think there might also be flecks of silver on his hands. You think they’re magnificent.

Your eyes follow the color of his arms up, unobstructed until you realize he is naked save for the thin chain of silver around his neck as it hangs low between his pectorals. Your entire body instantly flushes, a powerful and pleasant thrill rolling languidly down your spine when you see his torso. You shake off the thought and watch him silently as his toned figure dips down and he disappears beneath the water.

He emerges a few seconds later up to his ribs, hands raking through his hair and across his face. Your heart pounds loudly in your ears and he turns, eyes landing directly on yours. They’re shining a iridescent purple.

It is then that you see with great confusion the way the water bleeds a pinkish color toward him from where you’re standing, and a dusty purple from where he stands.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but no words that come to mind seem like the right ones. Instead, you just move to leave, wading toward the bank and covering your breasts with an arm before you rise up to take the towel from the branch.

The intensity in his eyes stills you, “No, please...” he says quickly, his beautiful hands sunk under the surface. You still, sinking back to settle beneath the surface.

“Can we talk?” he asks from his place, turning toward you and taking a single step before stopping to wait for your answer. “Would that make you uncomfortable?” he realizes, head cocking to the side.

“Okay.” you say with a slight slur. Your senses are beginning to drift off a little more. The rational side of you is wary of another shut out, but that side seems to have taken a backseat for the moment. You have a strange feeling that this water is more than just water and the longer you soak in it, the farther and farther you feel yourself drifting.

Thankfully it is high enough to cover most of you. Only the very peak of the valley between your breasts is visible above the colored surface. 

When Namjoon smiles and approaches you, he directly avoids looking at you, standing a respectable six feet away and face turned to the moon above. Your attention is captured by the low hanging moonstone pendant between his pectorals.

“I’m sorry.” he says lowly, fingers running through the surface of the water back and forth.

When you don’t speak, he chances a look and your eyes meet. The color and feel of them settling on you takes you back to the nightmare. The wolf’s torture reflecting back at you for real, and the strong lurch of their weight springs tears of emotion that spill quietly down your cheeks.

Namjoon’s hand jerks to a halt as it reaches for you, and you’re smart enough to have figured out why he can’t touch you. Why he won’t.

The colors of the water shift around you both, mixing into a beautiful swirl of richly colored blues and greens that bleed downstream with the current that carries them.

He doesn’t do anything more than smile gently at you, watching as you take a few moments to dry your eyes. You are distracted by the way the color surrounding his form shifts from that clover green to a calming periwinkle.

It is when you look back up to smile at him do you notice he isn’t beside you anymore. You catch the glinting of the moonstone pendant as it swings away from his chest with the force of his jump toward the higher branch of the twisted tree on the bank.

While you became increasingly less aware of your surroundings, you also forgot your clothes needed to be hung to dry. Namjoon is carefully plucking each piece from their place and wringing them out before snapping them out and jumping just enough to throw them over one side of the higher branch to dry.

Every emotion that manifests inside of you is intense, growing more so with every minute longer you stay in the water. The same goes for even the heady tingling of something exciting as you watch the muscles of his arms and back work to twist every drop of water from your clothes. The excitement increases with every jump he does to hang them up, the top of his backside visible for a split second with each stretch.

Your head feels like it’s pounding with the whiplash of emotions layering one after another that come and go, and you’re pretty certain this water has made you drunk on something. You knew you were emotional when you drank, but the intensity of the emotions flooding through you has never been this bad.

When he finishes and turns to you, the smile he is wearing is sheepish. As you stand there slack-jawed and staring, it turns into a devilish smirk with each step closer he takes.

“Do you like what you see?” he asks boldly, fingers playing in the now bright pink water surrounding you.

You’re unable to control how loose you feel as your tongue rolls out a reply. “You’re beautiful.” you say.

The smirk on the older man’s face is wiped away by your statement and his eyes are on your face, searching for something.

You watch closely, reading the several emotions that come and go across his handsome features. The silence between you makes the sound of crickets seem deafening.

You wanted to sort out this dream for yourself before telling him about it, but your tongue goes off forming words again without your consent, “I dreamed about you.” you start. The eye contact is broken as you look down at the water, twirling your fingers across its lavender surface.

He waits patiently for you to continue, “You were a wolf, and you were in...” you trail off, swallowing thickly to wet your dry throat.

“You were unable to control the power that flows from your hands.” you restart. Your head won’t lift to meet his gaze as you continue.

“It looked like it burned you and you were howling in such a way that it sounded like screaming.” Your fingers still play absent-mindedly with the color changing water as it fades from purple to blue around him.

“That power was terrifying and I couldn’t do anything as I watched it envelop everything around you. When the flare of it was over you were weak and you looked at me, and-” you start, shaking your head.

You feel like you might cry, and you have you swallow the lump burning your throat, “Namjoon the pain in your eyes was so intense. I felt all of the torment behind them. I don’t know why, but I-” you say, disrupted by a drop into the water between you.

When you look up to his face you’re surprised and hurt all over again to see tears quietly rolling down his full cheeks and his lavender irises once again locked on the moon overhead.

Reaching up to brush away his tears, you stop, “Can I touch you?” you whisper gently.

His throat catches, adam’s apple bobbing and his voice cracks as he answers after a pause, “I don’t know.”

The sadness and uncertainty of his answer is not lost on you, but the understanding in your expressions gives him a moment to catch his breath and swallow.

“May I try?” you coax.

Namjoon searches for something in your face again, and he must find whatever he was looking for, because he lets you.

“Just not here.” He says, gesturing as he drags both of his arms out and away from you before holding them out at his sides above the water.

You’re sure to give him your best smile and move slowly. You’re unashamed about the exposure of your chest above the water as you reach up and step closer. The rational you feel like this is all happening too fast, but to the drunk you, it feels bold but right in this moment. His eyelids slide shut and he doesn’t make any moves to spoil it.

You’re sure to be as considerate as possible when your hands rest on his full cheeks and your thumbs brush away the tears clinging to his lashes. You don’t miss the soft sigh that escapes him at human touch. You try but know you cannot begin to fathom how long it has been since he has experienced any human contact. It clenches your heart desperately.

“It’s okay.” you whisper to him. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips with your tender encouragement.

Eyebrows pinching together, you’re not sure if the pair of eyes staring back at you from the bank are real or not. Namjoon can feel your arms freeze where they brush his face and chest and his ears for sure pick up the sharp inhale of breath.

His eyes snap open and it’s as though his senses become less foggy, grounding him back on earth. His body twists to the side to follow you gaze to the fox sitting on the riverbank expectantly.

You still feel the heavy haze of being drunk but you are somewhat aware that the growl ripping from his throat should not sound arousing, nor should the feel of it as it rumbled his chest against your arms. Namjoon quickly steps into you fully to prevent the fox from seeing your naked form. The feel of his chest flush with yours causes a whine to pass over your parted lips.

He catches the sound and he takes a deep breath before stepping away from you in panic. “Fucking hell.” he breathes, turning to stalk as quickly as possible out of the water. The last thirty seconds leave your skin flushing hot and prickling cold all at once.

He turns to you before he leaves the water, “If you’re done bathing you should get out. This river is a magic sponge.” His voice is gruff and sullen. Namjoon doesn’t care that he is naked as he walks out of the water and disappears around the tree.

“Wait!” You call after him, the tugging in your chest urging you to follow. You grab the towel waiting for you on the branch and give the fox beside you a glare. It turns around as you climb out in your state of indecency.

Namjoon comes back a moment later wearing nothing more than a towel tied precariously around his hips. His clothes are folded in a neat stack and he shoves them at you quickly to avoid touching you with his bare hands.

“Please put these on.” he asks in a softer tone, refusing to look at you.

Hoseok looks between the both of you, blinking the sleep from his eyes. The fox watches with glittering amusement in his.

“Thank you.” You say after you’ve surrendered, expression dropping when you see your own clothes are still dripping into the river below from their hanging spot. You clutch your towel tighter around your body.

Namjoon and the fox exchange glances. Your head feels much clearer and you cough, “Um, could you please turn around?” you ask, feeling suddenly sheepish after all of the skin-ship you just shared.

Namjoon flushes and looks petulantly at the fox, “Seokjin, please.”

The fox appears to roll its eyes before it turns and a small black hole appears beside it, just large enough for the fox to jump through, vanishing completely.

You would normally be shocked by now, but somehow you’re more tired than anything as your lack of sleep and the emotions of the last hour catches up with you, “That was Seokjin?” you ask.

Namjoon nods his head, turning around to give you some privacy and running his hands through his hair, pushing his bangs up off of his forehead.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you get out earlier. I didn’t realize how...” he trails off as he stands with his back to you, carefully working his wrappings back around each hand and arm.

“No. Do not be sorry, just be honest.” You say in reply. You’re not going to sit here and let him think that was a mistake. You can still feel something pulling you toward him. You’ve been able to feel it this whole time. The water only helped it along, and you don’t regret it.

Namjoon turns to you slowly, peering over his shoulder to make sure you’re decent. You’re standing still, staring right back at him, his shirt long enough to cover your thighs as you offer him back his pants so he has something to cover himself with decently.

He tries to defy you, opening his mouth with a stern expression before he shuts it and huffs, looking at the ground for a moment. Instead, he whispers, “Okay.” and just smiles at the certainty and resolution in your stare. In his honesty you can’t help but feel the heat that reaches his eyes as they drop to your exposed legs and you can see the way his plush lower lip curls into his mouth between his teeth.

You can feel your cheeks go scarlet and you flounder for an excuse to get out of embarrassment. “Hoseok!” you nearly screech, shooting the bewildered deer a look and stalking off into the forest, “Lets go!”

Namjoon’s laughter behind you is loud and boisterous and a smile works its way over your lips as you walk away from him and the river. One last glance over your shoulder reveals him securing his pants and shaking his head, dimples in his cheeks as he smiles.

You heart pulls in you chest. Once again, with the beginnings of dawn enveloping the sky from the other side of the river, you are in awe of his beauty as the rays of early morning light catch his golden skin.

____________________________________

Once you’re fully dressed, the sun risen completely and Namjoon has returned to happily make breakfast for you both, you bask in the content of the moment. Today, you’re going to start learning your own Magic.

“Today we aren’t going to try to cast any magic.” he says as he joins you beside the fire pit. You had been smiling as you watched the embers slowly die, but it is replaced with a frown at his words.

Looking up at him, you feel a bit childish when you whine, “Why not?”

Namjoon’s dimples appear and his eyes turn into crescents as he smiles and shakes his head at you, “Because, all of your magic got sucked up by the Seponji. If you tried to cast Magic now it would be harmful to you.” You don’t miss the gentle way he says the last phrase with a worried crease in his brow.

“Well it isn’t my fault Hoseok thought it would be a good idea for me to take a bath in that water.” you say, shooting the deer in question a false glare when he stops what he’s doing to look at you, eyes burning with betrayal.

“Don’t worry, it will come back. It just takes time, and you need to learn what you’re doing before you go haphazardly casting Magic and wrecking havoc.” Namjoon says, nudging you with his foot before turning to walk back toward the house.

“Fine.” you sigh, rolling off of the hammock and quickly taking a few wide strides to match his pace. “So what are you going to teach me today?” Your hands fold behind you as you bend to peer at his face in your curiosity.

“I’m not going to teach you anything, but learning some Magic text will do you good.” he comments, opening the door and holding it for you.

You did love to read, and Namjoon is pleasantly surprised and all the more endeared with your sudden excitement about getting to read some ancient Magic texts. In your outburst of joy, you miss all of the ways he quickly tries to quell his rapidly-growing fondness for you.

You pick a stool and sit at the table as he instructs, pointing to different books and scrolls that you need to read.

“Can’t I just read all of it?” you ask with pleading eyes. Namjoon just blinks at you with wide eyes.

There’s that pulling in your heart when Namjoon can’t form words. He seems disbelieving but amazed, stunned into silence at your question.

Finally, he breathes out, “Yes.” The sound of glee you make in response hits his ears and drowns out the loud beating of his heart thundering against his ribs.

Getting comfortable on the high stool, you pick up one of the books and open it to rest the spine in the palm of your hand, enjoying the weight and the smell of it. You sit this way, as if time itself is standing still while you absorb what is written.

Occasionally, you use your index finger to hold your place and ask Namjoon a question. He comes to the table, standing behind you to read over your shoulder and help answer what you’re referencing.

A comfortable silence has stretched over the house while you read. Loud enough to make you look up in embarrassment, your stomach objects the silence with a loud growl, making the Warlock turn his attention to you, “Someone is getting hungry.”

"I can help if you would like?" you suggest, but Namjoon puts his hand up.

“No. You need to read. I’ll just be outside.” he says with a big yawn, stretching high. Of their own accord, your eyes greedily scan over the abdominals peeking out from his shirt as he reaches high above his head. Namjoon’s cheeks are tinged pink when he comes back to a normal position. He knows what he is doing, and he knows he is distracting you from absorbing much knowledge.

_____________________________________

After a fantastically filling meal, you settle back into your studies with a large scroll all about Magic Affinities. The tall male you co-habitate with sits on a lower chair and picks up his own book. From his pocket he pulls small piece of leather folded over a pair of glasses before placing them neatly over the bridge of his nose.

You smile at him warmly before turning back to your own search for knowledge, and it isn’t long before you notice the repetitive nodding of his head every few minutes. His eyes look tired and you understand that the Seponji must have taken quite a lot of his own Magic, too.

“Namjoon?” you ask softly. Curling around a scroll, your fingers twitch with the want to reach out and stroke his cheek or run your fingers over his hair to rouse him. Before you can give into the temptation, he is peering at you from over the book in his loose grasp with tired eyes.

A small laugh works its way from your lips as you ask, “Are you alright? Why don’t you go lay down?”

The spine of the book instantly smacks the table in his immediate agreement. He whips the glasses off of his nose before folding them back into their leather pocket and setting it on the table. Namjoon hums and smiles at you, carefully placing the old woven bookmark between the pages. He closes it and smooths his palm across the cover lovingly before turning back to you, “I’m normally asleep at this hour.” he admits.

The look on your face must mirror your shock and he has enough energy to tell you without having you ask.

“I’m on a nocturnal schedule. Moon Warlock and all.” he says with a fluttering of his fingers in the air and smirk that emphasizes the dashing flare of his Magic. It makes the blood in your veins sink to your center.

“Goodnight.” you say before any other exchanges can be had to distract you. Especially after this morning, you can nearly still smell his natural scent and feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. The memory of it all easily makes you flustered and frustrated.

Namjoon is asleep in less than ten minutes. Everything is fairly quiet and you find yourself fighting the sagging of your own eyelids before another hour has passed.

Then, it is with a sudden chill that you startle, jumping out of your skin. Above you, Namjoon lets out a surprised noise. You’re very comfortable but confused as you blink away some sleepiness to take in your situation. You were very certain you fell asleep while reading.

Namjoon has wrapped a large blanket around you and you’re being carried toward the bed. He must have picked you up, and although it is very nice, it is also alarming and you struggle to free yourself.

“Namjoon what are y-” is all your froggy throat can manage when he cuts you off.

His voice is equally unused when he whispers, “Please. Just let me do this.” He is resolute in his determination not to meet your eyes until he carefully sets you down among the linens.

You’re thankful for the large blanket wrapped around you as you bury your face in it, hiding the pink of your cheeks to him. He still looks tired, but you’re not sure how long he slept. The sun has begun to set so you can conclude it has been a few hours.

“You still need to sleep. You look tired.” you say, gauging why he brought you to the bed if he still needed it. More internal debates happen and Namjoon has to stifle a chuckle as he watches you battle with yourself.

“I’m used to getting up at this time so my internal clock woke me up. Besides,” he begins with a frown, “You shouldn’t be falling asleep on a stool and drooling all over my scrolls.”

You blanche immediately and the reaction has him rolling with loud laughter. “I do not drool!” you screech. Even _you_ flinch at the sound of your own voice.

It takes him a moment to collect himself, feigning to wipe a tear from his eye. “I’m only kidding.”

There’s a pregnant pause where you’re not quite sleepy enough anymore to immediately forget the world and where Namjoon doesn’t want to remove himself from the foot of the bed.

“Hey.” you call his attention quietly. He had begun mulling something difficult over in his head, that much you could tell. It was too painful to watch the frustration on his face, fists balled into the sheets.

The lines across his forehead instantly relaxes at your attention. “How could you carry me over here if you never want to touch me?” you ask.

You’re too tired to deal with beating around the bush right now and you’re not sure if the alarm written on his face is because of your bold question or general surprise at the content of this conversation topic.

In the time it takes Namjoon to answer, you study him. The way his hair falls over his forehead, and the way his plush bottom lip curls in and he flattens his chin while he thinks. The beauty marks in his skin, your favorite already being the one on his chin.

He sighs heavily, nodding as he turns to you fully, “My Magic... this curse. It only affects two things. One is the living. _Any_ ,” he says with emphasis, “Living thing. Including plants and the earth itself. However, it only works if I’m touching it directly.”

He trails off with pink cheeks and averted eyes, fiddling with a stray thread on his pant leg, “So, I was able to pick you up because of this.” he mutters with a tug to the corner of the blanket.

“These wrappings were made with Magic. They help greatly to temper the output and let me control it mostly. There’s still always a chance though...” his voice gets quieter until it stops and his brow furrows deeply again.

One deep breath and he moves on, “The second requirement is that whatever is affected by me has to be solid. So it doesn’t work in water.” His eyes are calm with the storm having passed.

The Warlock before you notices you nodding, and in his pause you query, “Is that why your hands were not wrapped in the Seponji?”

Namjoon is oddly tight-lipped, the bob of his head your only confirmation. It suddenly dawns on you that he is nervous. You saw them.

“I think they’re captivating.” you say honestly.

“You mean devastating.” he corrects promptly, and you kick him in the thigh from your cocoon. “No, I like them a lot.”

His bashful smile reaches his eyes this time at your compliment, “Ah, well your honesty is refreshing. Thank you."

“Speaking of Seponji...” you cough and it is your turn to avert your eyes, “Can you tell me what the hell that is all about? I’ve never heard of any Magical bodies of water, anywhere.” you say.

Namjoon’s cheeks are as pink as yours, remembering the drunken haze and shared skin-ship from your bath. “Ah,” he begins before a laugh passes his lips and he runs a hand through his hair, “That is because Seokjin made it for me. That water is made to suck up Magic. Since my power is so difficult to control, he aligned the right stars to bless that river and give it Magic. Or really, a portion of it. Just a mile's worth.” he says simply.

You don’t know anything about Seokjin the fox other than the fact that he in indeed a Warlock trapped in a fox’s body.

He continues, “The downside with any leeching type of Magic is that it distorts your consciousness. It makes you feel like you’ve been drinking depending on how much Magic it takes from you. It also amplifies emotions, which is why the color changes based on emotions. It is a visual tool.” he confirms, fingers playing absent-mindedly at the hair beginning to grow on his jawline.

“I thought it was something like that, considering...” you reply, trailing off to smile at your own recollection.

“So, hypothetically speaking, what would happen if someone else touched your hands? Does it have to be you initiating for your power to work or does it not matter?” The curiosity has gotten the best of you, but Namjoon seems to be calm enough to give you answers for the moment.

“Ah, no, it doesn’t matter. If someone touches my hands they will die.” he says with a sullen expression.

You feel sad for him but also a little mischievous, “But someone could touch other parts of you and live, like I did.” you say.

He nods quietly until you continue, “And you could touch someone with anything other than your hands.”

Namjoon’s head snaps to attention at your logic and his eyes slowly widen, mouth parting.

You’re both surveying the other openly and the man in front of you takes a massive gulp of air, licking his lips while staring at yours.

You can’t help the yawn that breaks from your throat. It serves to break the tension for the moment, “You should lay back down if you’re tired.” he says quietly, averting his eyes.

“Can I get on a nocturnal schedule, too?” you inquire. You’re being genuine and the returning smile Namjoon gives you makes your heart flutter softly.

“As flattering as that is, for now I think it is best if we have opposing sleep schedules. Unless you want your own bed, in which case I can bu-” he begins but you cut him off quickly with firm disapproval. Neither of you deny the insinuation that you’ll hopefully share the same bed someday.

“I can’t go having any nightmares with you sleeping right beside me. What if I accidentally kill you? These wrappings help and my Magic is definitely weaker during the day when I sleep, but that’s still a potential possibility I am not willing to risk.” he explains.

You nod, settling back into the pillows, “But what if you don’t have any nightmares?”

Namjoon knows you’re playing to rile him up now, sucking in sharply through his teeth. Just as quickly as you would expect of his wolfish reflexes, he is hovering over you.

He smirks at you and dips his head into your neck, close enough to feel his warm breath. You close your eyes and wait for something, _anything_. You’ve never been one very interested in these sorts of activities, but this man has you willing to do whatever it takes if he will just touch you.

All he does is bring his face back to yours. The apples of his cheeks are bright as he commits to memory the look of pure desire written across your face. You’re watching him in return, enraptured with the pretty color of his natural eyes. It is now you notice there are flecks of honey color in the deep brown.

He quickly brings his forehead to press into yours, his breath fanning across your face, “This is so frustrating.” he whispers with a smile, eyes closed. His voice sounds hoarse even through the light tone. Instead of kissing you like you wanted, he nudges his nose into yours before sitting up entirely and running a hand through his hair.

Perfectly timed as if he was not waiting just outside the door and could hear everything, Hoseok pushes the front door open, head peering inside. Yoongi is sitting on his head, and you could swear that his expression is that of judgement.

Taehyung and the latest member, Seokjin accompany Hoseok into the house. Both you and Namjoon are a little melancholy about everything, but try to smile at the group as you give each other some distance. Hoseok notices your mood and immediately comes to comfort you by laying his head across the bed to look at you cutely.

Yoongi jumps off of his head and crosses the bed to lay in Namjoon’s lap while Taehyung nudges himself along Namjoon’s legs as they hang over the edge of the bed, purring loudly.

It takes great effort but you manage to pull your arm free of the blankets to scratch Hoseok behind the ears.

” I wish I could talk to you.” you convey to the deer. He nuzzles deeper into your palm to state his agreement.

Namjoon immediately gets up, setting Yoongi down on the floor. Everyone watches momentarily as he plucks a book and a series of scrolls from a shelf before returning and planting them at the foot of the bed for you.

“You can learn. Hoseok can help you.” he clarifies, gesturing to the pile of notes. You thank him, sitting up to take one of the scrolls in your hand and get started.

Taehyung makes a sound of disapproval and whines at Namjoon. There’s a brief pause.

“That’s not polite, Yoongi hyung.” he declares, eyeing the leopard cat. In one motion Namjoon scoops him up off the floor and Yoongi tolerates him playing with his toe beans. You silently observe the cat, who begins to purr loudly and relax the longer Namjoon holds his tiny paws.

“But you didn’t speak to him, _did_ you?” you ask.

Namjoon looks at you with wild eyes for a moment, having to think back to what just transpired. Apparently he didn’t even realize, as he says, “Oh, Yoongi is telepathic, so I don’t have to speak to him to hear him.”

It is interesting to hear such a thing, although things get more and more strange every day you’re with these Warlocks.

“So why can’t I ever hear him?” you ask curiously.

Yoongi replies for himself in your head, “Because I don’t have anything to say to you.”

Ouch. Harsh, but he isn’t wrong. You shrug, “Fair enough.”

Taehyung looks all the more distraught at you getting to speak with anyone other than Namjoon before himself.

You laugh at his clear distress, “Don’t worry Tae, I’ll still learn it so I can talk to you.” The tiger in question shoves Hoseok in the rear until he nearly kicks him in the face and moves, clambering up on the bed beside you.

Taehyung replaces him at the side of the bed, purring loudly and clearly looking for your attention as you scratch him with both hands.

The fox makes a pointed swish of his tail in the silence that ensues, capturing the attention of the human forms among the party.

“Ah, yes. This is Seokjin. You two uh...” Namjoon begins, scratching at his chin before laughing, “You met earlier.”

“The fox who can align the stars themselves. What incredible Magic.” you muse, more to yourself, but the fox bows regally at your praise anyway.

“Jin is royalty, so you’ll have to forgive his extravagant _everything_.” Namjoon says with mirth in his voice.

Seokjin snaps his attention to Namjoon and his eyes go wide as if he has some complaint in reply. The exchange is cute, nonetheless.

Just as things are settling again, there’s a singing from the other side of the door, accompanied by a rapid low thumping.

“They’re back already, that was fast.” Namjoon comments to the room, setting Yoongi on the bed to answer the door.

The moment there is enough open space a small yellow bird and a brown rabbit are bolting and buzzing into the house and right up to you.

”Guys, don’t crowd her, please.” Namjoon’s stern voice commands, and the two back off and calm down. The bird nestles into the top of the tiger’s head, who looks up at him with an adoring expression. The rabbit stays beside Yoongi on the bed, raised on his hind legs with ears back.

“Who are they?” you ask.

Namjoon’s chest appears to swell as he counts them all, making sure each of his friends are here before answering you.

“I suppose now is the best time to introduce you. I’m assuming you want to know everyone’s Magic?” he says pointedly, laughing at your sheepish nodding and clapping hands.

“It’s alright.” He assures, “I know you're curious, so I already asked.”

“Well,” he starts, pointing to Hoseok, “You already know that hyung and what his Magic is. Same goes for this one.”

His fingers gently tap Taehyung on the back as he says it. They move to point to at Seokjin, “This is the eldest, Seokjin. His Magic is Celestial. Very powerful, special Magic. He can tell you about it later.” Namjoon says quickly as the fox begins to take what he assumes is center stage for a demonstration.

You laugh at his clearly appalled expression.

The handsome man continues pointing his fingers towards his friends, pausing briefly on Yoongi, “Yoongi hyung is second oldest. His Magic is Wisdom. Sounds different, but is actually very versatile. He has Foresight, Fortunes and Telepathy all within his grasp.” The cat looks at you plainly before moving to Hoseok and stepping between his front legs to lay down.

“The newest additions,” Namjoon continues his speech, “Are Jimin, possessor of Heaven Magic, or in some realms, Sky Magic. He is Blessed and has the ability to Shape shift.”

The little yellow bird sings a happy tune and opens his beak so wide to mimic a smile his eyes close into crescents. You're immediately endeared with him.

“And Jungkook, the maknae. His Magic is Elemental, with a high affinity for fire. As a hare, although not quite part of his Magic, grants him incredible speed.”

The young rabbit looks at you curiously still, only startling away when you reach out a hand too quickly and he jumps from the bed.

For a moment you look upset until Namjoon steps in and settles your worries, “It’s okay. He is very shy, he will warm up don’t worry. He's actually quite excited to meet you.”

You smile in return at the rabbit as it peeks from behind Namjoon’s legs with both ears raised, nose and whiskers twitching. A few beats of silence passes where nobody seems to know what to do. Eventually, Namjoon just laughs and shakes his head. When you look up at him with a questioning stare he finally moves.

“Please excuse us, as we have to have a small meeting now that they’ve returned. Hoseok can stay here with you and study if you like?” he asks.

Nodding your head in response, you untie the string holding the scroll closed before rolling it open across your lap. The remaining five anthropomorphic beings follow their leader toward the door, who gives you one last parting smile before he closes it quietly behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone reading this, congratulations on making it this far.  
> I have always cared a lot about what I wrote, but I n e v e r cared THIS much about it.  
> So I apologize for making you wait so long but I had to re-write this chapter twice because I kept getting distracted about how I feel for Namjoon and trying to put that into written words just turned me into a pile of incoherent goo every time.
> 
> Thank you! I hope you're enjoying the way I'm weaving this so far! :)


	4. Chapter 3

Blinking, you realize there’s a warm, comforting presence at your back. Your heart melts at the sight of Hoseok curled up on the bed beside you, fast asleep for an afternoon nap. Additionally, nestled into his side is a small spotted cat purring loudly.

In his language, you call the deer in greeting. It takes him a moment but you know he heard you by the twitch of his ears and the deep breath he takes before opening his eyes.

You reach out, scratching the top of the cat’s head as well, smiling at him when he chooses to wholeheartedly ignore you. Your hand retreats and Yoongi stands, stretching his legs and rubbing his head along the underside of Hoseok’s chin in goodbye before disappearing from the bed.

The deer in question looks at you blankly, daring you to comment on it. Too complex a question just yet, you ask him about it in your natural language.

“Want to tell me about it?”

Hoseok shakes his head slowly.

You laugh, giving him a pat on the head and rise, stretching your arms high above you.

It’s been eight days since all of Namjoon’s friends returned and you started learning Magic. In those short days you have crammed in nearly all of the deer language lessons your brain can keep up with, too many scrolls and books worth of Magic study sessions, and have begun an adjustment to the way life works around here.

Every afternoon, you wake up to Hoseok curled up against your back. Sometimes as you regain consciousness you can hear Yoongi purring, assumed to be with Hoseok, but if he senses you’re waking up he bolts. You don’t have the heart to tell him yet and think it is absolutely endearing.

Taehyung is usually sprawled in front of the fire, snoring softly. You typically wake him with you, grumbling all the while. He makes a great blanket on the chillier evenings when you go outside, but the dark look you get from Namjoon when you’re curled up with him only serves to set your temperature higher.

So far, Jimin has never once not been able to make you smile. His cheerfulness is infections, perfectly fitting of such a pretty little songbird. He always seems to be singing something or chirping away in general. Sometimes he can be seen sitting atop Namjoon’s head talking to him. More often he will be right beside the shyest member of these Warlocks, Jungkook.

The hare hasn’t warmed up to you entirely yet, occasionally letting you get close or boop his nose while he curiously surveys you. As soon as you go to give him a pet or you give him all of your attention, he runs to one of his hyungs. Seokjin has assured you the maknae is just nervous.

Speaking of the dramatic fox, he is normally out hunting and rarely seen in the mornings, much like yourself and Namjoon. It isn’t until late afternoon that he shows himself, coming to be the center of comedic acts along with the three youngest. Most evenings, when things have quieted and you’re sat around the fire with most of them dozing, Seokjin will be watching the stars with a wistful and dour expression, for a fox.

On the less pleasant days, Namjoon will join him in his quiet mood and all consuming thoughts. There are good days and bad days, and you have learned sometimes it is best to let the Alpha wolf be.

The human Warlock, Namjoon, has turned out to be a great help and a great distraction all at once. While he is a fantastic teacher with a wealth of knowledge, he has not made these last few days easy on you by any means.

You wouldn’t say it’s been too difficult, but you can’t help to think learning Magic would be much easier without all of the tension between you. Emotions have been running too high.

On the good days, he teases you with his proximity, always safely keeping his hands away. Other times with his appearance, needlessly going around shirtless or conveniently coming to bathe while he knows you’re already there.

Although you try to ignore it, you get frustrated with it just as easily as you enjoy his flirting. If you’re overflowing with confidence and try to initiate, his own falters to match your own, melting into a shy mess who can barely maintain eye contact. If you let him lead but reciprocate his advances with innocent looks or displays of affection, his eyes grow considerably dark.

It is at this point when things become dangerous and usually end in his mood inflating with jealousy or frustration and he becomes hard to learn anything from. Those days yield little results other than sour moods and awkward silences with stolen glances until one of you apologizes and you mutually agree on the frustration.

He still won’t allow you to outright touch him after the one incident the first time you bathed in the Seponji.

________________________________________

You’ve learned that Magic is simple yet complex. Since there is Magic in everything, it’s not hard to draw on the power when you’re conscious of it. You came knowing that, but not quite knowing how to draw from specific sources or where the Magic would be directed once harnessed.

Namjoon and Hoseok both have taken their time to assist you and help explain the way praying to a God works and thus only being able to harness Magics that fall under that God’s realm.

From several long conversations about your past and your Mother and what you can and cannot do so far with the bit of Magic you know, the answer feels close and makes you anxious.

Having prayed over and over again for your Mother’s resurrection, Namjoon is nearly certain and undoubtedly horrified that you might have prayed to a God of Death and you’re stuck with living a life like his. Especially since you outright told him you tried performing Necromancy, which is the parallel Major Magic to his Decay Magic under the God of Death.

Thinking about it frequently causes Namjoon a lot of emotional grief and he often gets upset before you gently remind him you weren’t cursed and can touch things just fine even if you’re a Moon Warlock like him. Sometimes it results in him phasing and taking off into the woods in a cloud of black smoke and sometimes it results in him apologizing for being weak and you reassuring him that you’re happy you have such a great teacher for your shared Affinity.

Hoseok isn’t as convinced your Magic comes from the God of Death, but his argument is rebuked at every turn over the last week since this became a possibility. If you harnessed a Necromancy Major then why did you fail in resurrecting your Mother? Namjoon is sure it’s because you didn’t know how to direct the Magic properly.

How can you create barriers if that isn’t a Magic that falls under Necromancy or Decay Magic or any of the correlating Minor Magics? Namjoon backs up his logic by explaining it could technically be a Conjuration, further solidifying the Necromancy Major, where Conjuration falls as the Minor. He continues, justifying that it could be an Illusion, which is the shared Minor between the two Major Magics. To physically stop Taehyung that time, it would have to be incredibly powerful, but it isn’t unheard of, especially if your power was uncontrolled.

Hoseok doesn’t bother to argue about the fact that you walked through Namjoon’s Illusion the first time you met. It makes perfect sense that you walked through it if you had the same Magic since it cancels out.

The cycle repeats daily and the mood becomes somber but you do your best to assure everyone that it will be fine. It is only in the brief reprieves you share privately with the handsome human that your mood seems to falter.

As instructed, you’ve spent the last few days adjusting your schedule to a nocturnal one to match Namjoon’s, much as a Moon Warlock should.

For the last two nights, he has taken you out to a clearing at midnight, the Moon in full view, when you should have the easiest time drawing and directing Magic. To say it has been easier would be a lie. You have not once been able to cast any type of Illusion or Conjuration other than simple barriers or to break Namjoon’s Illusions he casts.

__________________________________

This evening seems to be no different when you emerge from the house. Namjoon looks up from the alchemy table, the mortar and pestle in his hands frozen momentarily as he fixes you with a gentle but sad smile before continuing his task.

Jungkook and Jimin are basking in the evening sun, asleep while he works, humming to himself.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, rubbing the sleep from your eyes again.

Taehyung conveniently expels himself from the house as you say it, his stomach rumbling loudly. Both you and Namjoon laugh, but the human Warlock seems distracted.

Without further commentary, you set yourself to work on making a meal for everyone. Namjoon has stopped humming, tense as he tries to focus on his task and ignore you.

You decide to hum to yourself quietly as you cook, an old tune your Mother used to sing to you. You stir the boiling broth to the rhythm to pass the time. It nearly scares you out of your thoughts to hear the quiet, deep tenor of Namjoon’s voice singing the words.

He doesn’t turn to you, but sings so softly it breaks your heart while he keeps busy with alchemy.

_“Down the old white mountain comes, over the trees like a calm sea breeze.”_ he sings.

There’s a smile on your face you can’t hide, humming louder now without disturbing him.

As you add the last ingredients to the pot, you see him peeking at you over his shoulder before turning his back once more.

_“Crisp is the touch and just enough, to hide among the gentle ghost.”_ His voice is a little rough but the emotions he expresses with it are beautiful. You catch yourself wanting to hear him sing more often.

_“For there is comfort in the mist coming down the old white mountain.”_

The first verse finishes and you have to stop because the soup is ready. The effort it takes to remove the hulking kettle from the fire without getting burned takes all of your focus. Nearly causing you to jump out of your skin, the beautiful man is beside you.

“I’ve got this.” he says gently, nudging you with his elbow. “Let me do this while you get the dishes.”

Nodding, you thank him and step toward the house.

There’s something calm and introspective about the mood while you eat. You surmise that it might be a pretty good night for Namjoon, judging by his gentle smiles.

“Thank you for the song.” he whispers between bites, a dimpled eye smile creeping onto his face.

You’re surprised, “You’re welcome?” before adding, “How did you know that song?”

He pushes his knee into yours from his place beside you and smiles. The thought that he has initiated two simple touches this evening has you temporarily drowned out of the conversation.

“That song comes from way before my time. I’m actually quite curious how _you_ know it.”

“Oh… my Mother used to sing it to me.”

Namjoon hums in understanding before getting up to collect the various dishes from the meal.

As is slowly becoming habit, at midnight it’s time for practice. The maknaes are resting in a pile by the fire with Hoseok and Yoongi. Most of them are dozing off but you notice both Yoongi and Jungkook staring into the fire intently as you leave with Namjoon.

The night is clearer than it has been and you bounce on the balls of your feet while you walk beside him, giddy with the feeling of Magic.

It’s as if you’re absolutely conscious of the Magic flowing within your body now and you often get jittery when you are excited and can feel it thrumming beneath your palms and at the tips of your fingers.

“I feel like we’re close to something tonight!” you exclaim when you reach the clearing, stepping wide and away from Namjoon to stand in the center.

There’s a little bit of a bite in the air, but you think some of your goosebumps might be from nerves. Trying to relax, you roll your head around, shaking your shoulders and shaking your arms before wiggling your fingers and letting the tips brush across the sea of wildflowers.

Namjoon is slowly walking around you in a circle with a grin, looking much like the wolf he is when stalking his prey. The look in his eyes is both dangerous and playful.

“Close your eyes and feel it. Breathe it in and push it to your palms.” he commands in a calm tone.

You do as instructed, but not much changes.

“Okay, now what?”

“Release it.” he hums from the opposite side.

“How?”

You can hear him chuckle. “Push it _beyond_ your palms. You’re still connected to it. Manipulate it past yourself.”

With a deep sigh you attempt, but again, nothing happens. You can feel it exit your body but you cannot feel it past that.

You drop your arms and grumble out the frustration, “I can’t control it once it leaves.”

“You’re not trying hard enough.” Namjoon says.

“Yes, I am! I am telling you I can feel it all around but once I push it out it just dissipates!”

The handsome Warlock is beside you before your heart can pass another beat. His eyes are glinting dangerously.

“I don’t think you are.” he whispers, the Magic of his eyes roving down your bare arms, reading for Magic.

You step away, “You’re not helping with that look in your eyes.”

“What look?” he queries, but the wolfish smile he brandishes tells you he knows.

“The one that says danger.” you whisper with heat on your cheeks.

Namjoon pauses for thought with his gaze on your face.

“And? Are you afraid?”

Your own eyes snap to his, determined and full of an emotion Namjoon tries to deny, _“No.”_ you say.

His dimples dig into his cheeks with his smile and he turns his head down, shaking it. A small laugh escapes him until he stops altogether and his head snaps back to his full height.

“That’s it.” he says.

You’re not sure what he means but it churns your gut, “What?”

“Maybe that’s why you are having a hard time with this. You’re not afraid if there’s no danger.”

“Oh.” is all you can say in reply.

Namjoon steps away with a growl, stalking purposefully toward the edge of the clearing.

“You won’t hurt me. You can’t, our Magic is the same.” You chide, but there are uneasy butterflies in your gut.

“I won’t kill you, but I think you can handle a little pain from other Magic.”

The dark look across his face sets your skin alert with goosebumps. You don’t think he is serious but your body reacts with fight or flight instinct at the implication of his threat regardless.

He unwraps his arms, draping the cloths around his neck. A black, swirling smoke extends around his hands, following them as he moves, fingers shaping signs to weave a spell into the air.

His face is hard and the light coming from the Moon casts a menacing shadow around him, his eyes glittering with Magic.

Before you can blink, there’s a glowing orb of Magic hurtling toward you. You barely dodge it, stepping back and ducking.

_“Namjoon!”_ you yell, mouth dropping open.

“Don’t dodge it.” he growls in reply, weaving another and sending it toward you.

You dodge it again in reaction, your heart pounding in your ears. You’re too focused on not getting hit to even try and focus on casting Magic.

“Conjure a barrier like you always do if you’re so afraid.” he barks.

“I can’t.” you shout at him.

“Yes, you _can!_ ”

“How can I focus like this? I’m just as frustrated as you are!”

“You seem to perform better when your life is in danger.” he threatens in a snarl. It is here, at this point in time you can clearly see the vast, unending distance between the levels of yours and Namjoon’s Magic abilities.

He twists, arms extended and weaving a large circle into the sky.

From behind him, deeper into the treeline, a massive blackness extends. There isn’t an end to it as you follow it around in a circle.

All side seem to close in toward you. The frustration you can feel makes you grit your teeth, tears brimming at your eyes as you stare at Namjoon. He watches you with his arms crossed over his chest and a stony expression.

You bend into a ball, so tense you feel like you’ll explode into bits, so you scream to the heavens.

The Alpha watches it all in slow motion. Your scream, and the nearly invisible ripple of Magic extending from not your palms but your entire being, crashes into the spell he cast and shatters it like glass.

In all of his years, he hasn’t ever seen anything like it. Moon Warlocks can’t break Magic of a different Affinity. Especially not without touching it.

He wraps his hands and uses large, hurried strides to reach you as you stand.

You’re confused by what transpired, your head whipping around slowly, brow furrowed. You can’t hear, like shell shock from a bomb exploding beside your head. There’s only a slowly vanishing ringing, and your eyes seek Namjoon for some sort of clue, only to find him with an unreadable expression two paces away.

“Wha-” you try to speak. He cuts you off when he reaches you, his lips meeting yours. No room for breathing or space as he takes your mouth. You’re baffled, but enjoy it nonetheless, kissing him back fervently. Without even touching him you can feel the heat of his body radiating so closely to your own.

He walks you backwards, attacking your mouth continuously. You feel him smiling against your mouth before gently licking at the seam of your lips. A whine pitches up your throat and you cave, bringing your arms around his neck.

Your fingers touch the back of his neck and you’re wholly perplexed when he is suddenly gone, having pulled away in an instant.

You open your eyes to see him standing at the edge of the clearing, in the same place he was when he cast the black spell. Heart sinking into your stomach and turning sour, you realize the cruel Illusion.

Hot, angry tears spring from your eyes and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand in embarrassment. “Don’t you…” you try to calm yourself, finger shaking at him.

“Don’t you. _Ever._ Cast another Illusion on me.” Your voice wavers and it is hard to breathe, but you don’t care, too hurt to waste another minute. You can’t believe he did that, and it is all you can think about as you turn and walk briskly back to the house.

Namjoon remains in the same spot, feeling surprised and altogether a bit shameful for doing that to you. He watches you go, wiping at your tears. Once alone, he looks to the Moon as if it will give him the answer.

He is now certain of two things. First, you are not a Moon Warlock. Second, whatever kind of Magic you do possess, you are powerful. He only knows one Warlock who is powerful enough to cast Magic without their hands.

He needs to talk to Seokjin.

___________________________________________

The door slamming shut startles Hoseok into a deer personified scream. He pouts at you until he looks up to your face, tear streaked with a red nose and furrowed brow.

The wood of the bed frame scuffs across the floor a fraction with the force of your momentum as you sit. You heave a sigh in frustration, angrily wrestling your boots from your feet before resting your face in your palms.

Magic aside, Namjoon played a dirty trick on you without thinking about your feelings. Once a bit calm, part of you understands his frustration and reconciles that he may not realize it was such a wrong thing to do. After all, he is socially stunted. The stronger part of you right now feels like it doesn’t matter because he took it too far.

Hoseok walks into your palm, pushing it over his back and leaning against your legs, calling out quietly.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” you say, more tears beginning to well. You dig your fingers back and forth across his spine to distract yourself, shaking your head as if to dispel the emotions.

“Lets go to bed, it’s late for you.”

Hoseok follows you without argument, curling against your legs until you pat his rump and motion for him to lay beside you.

So gentle and so sweet, the Sun Warlock makes himself comfortable with his back to you, allowing you to curl against his fur and drift off.

______________________________________

The Seponji glows a brilliant, deep blue on this clear night, the Magic flowing through the water so concentrated you might think the color was pulsing with the intensity.

Seokjin is in his element here, surrounded by his own Blessings. Able to think and breathe and watch over the river, it’s width giving a grandiose view of the fox’s favorite stars.

Seokjin is at peace here, and even when his thoughts and emotions plague him, the coolness of the water can sap his Magic like the kiss of a desperate lover until he is too tired to think about his thousand years of guilt.

Luckily, before such thoughts can overtake his weary mind tonight, Namjoon clears the treeline and seeks the attention of the Cosmic Warlock.

In a low tone, the Alpha calls to him, “She isn’t a Moon Warlock.”

The fox turns to him calmly, eyes glowing as if to say, “I know.”

“Is she…” he begins in a graceful tongue, the dialect of the fox. He turns away, walking toward the house and motioning for the eldest to follow.

Seokjin’s expression is somber, his tone short in irritation when he replies in the same language, “No, she isn’t part of my Heirloom Magic.”

Namjoon scratches at his chin, thinking.

Seokjin continues, “She may possess Heirloom Magic, but not mine. It is doubtful, since it has virtually been extinct for four hundred years.”

The fox shifts uncomfortably, the memories making his gut churn. Namjoon huffs, knowing this conversation doesn’t bring good thoughts for the wise Warlock, but he is the only one with the information he needs.

“Can you remember if there were any survivors from the clans?” Namjoon asks calmly. There are creases in his forehead as he thinks, face upturned, watching the Moon through the canopy of trees while they walk.

“Unless they had been in hiding before the Absorbers came… I don’t believe so. I would have heard by now.”

“Are you sure?”

_“Namjoon.”_ the fox turns to him sharply, “I killed them all four hundred years ago. _Every. Single. One._ Burned any trace of that forsaken clan and searched for more than two hundred years for survivors. You know that.”

The Moon Warlock isn’t used to being made to feel stupid and he kicks his heel into the dirt with a growl, “I know. I just… _what_ is she?”

Seokjin laughs, the broken sound in higher fox pitch makes Namjoon smile, regardless of his disgruntled mind. “She’s something special.” he quips in his anthropomorphic tongue.

Akin to their senses, the smell of the smoke from them hearth calms them before they can see the house. Each takes a subtly deep breath during the silence until Namjoon nearly trips over his own feet at the sound of a woman screaming.

___________________________________

Somewhere in your subconscious you can tell you’ll wake up with a kink in your neck from stress and horrible sleep as you toss and turn fitfully. Your Mother did always tell you that when you were upset, you grumbled and moved around a lot in your sleep.

Drifting in and out of consciousness was getting more and more difficult as you couldn’t get comfortable. You felt oddly hot and remember kicking off the blankets without opening your eyes at one point before turning to your other side, curling into Hoseok’s fur and breathing in his scent, similar to the calm of cedar wood.

You float into semi-consciousness again because your palms itch so intensely you have to scratch to relieve them before making a mental note to ask Hoseok for a lotion bar in the morning.

You’re not sure what exactly woke you, your eyes snapping open wide as if a bucket of ice water was injected directly into your veins. It could’ve been the warm, smooth expanse of human skin against your arm or the sound of a man sighing contentedly before a tanned arm was draped around your exposed midsection and you were dragged back into a warm, firm chest. Perhaps it was the feeling of that chest rising and falling in slumber and the feel of hot breath against the back of your head.

You had thought perhaps it was Namjoon until the arm draped across your body and held you tightly. You sit up and turn, a scream escaping your lungs before you have a chance to clamp your hand over your mouth.

The sleeping Tiger at the foot of the arm chair shoots up, eyes wild. The naked man in the bed also bolts up, screeching bloody murder. He remains attached to you.

The sound of the door slamming open makes you jump out of your skin, eyes wider than ever as Namjoon surveys you for injuries in less than a second before looking behind you.

“Namjoon?” the man calls, quickly shutting his mouth and smiling wide. His arm is still forgotten, draped across your bare stomach where your shirt has ridden up with your restlessness.

The Alpha’s face expresses shock and what you might guess is disbelief and totally bewildered surprise.

_“Hoseok?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with this story! There are lots of star charts and details about Magic and depth to these characters and I am so happy I can finally begin to bring some of that to light as this story progresses! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!
> 
> I hope you're enjoying reading my story!  
> Kim Namjoon makes me feel a LOT of emotions very strongly. His loneliness and beauty really make me feel a lot of ways. I feel his suffering, and it only makes me want to give him the world.  
> So, I want readers to fall in love with him the way I did.
> 
> If you can, please go support me on tumblr, too! I would greatly appreciate it! <3  
> www.tumblr.com/soft-mint-yoongi
> 
> Thank you! Saranghabnida!


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